


Where You Belong

by coffeejunkii



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 14:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/pseuds/coffeejunkii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry Potter" and "impossible" cancel one another out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Belong

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written for the 2008 round of H/D Holidays on Livejournal.

The path swung around the park in a large arc. Fallen leaves dotted the gravel, crunching under Harry's steps as he made his way around the pond until a bench with a familiar figure came into sight. Draco briefly glanced up at him, and Harry thought he saw a tense frown on his face, but was still too far away to be certain.

Harry hadn't seen Draco the entire week as both of them had been too busy at work. Five days wasn't that long, but parting after the weekend had been more difficult than usual. Draco's hands had lingered whenever they managed to get a hold of a sleeve, or a belt loop, or anything else that could be grasped, and Harry had been unwilling to untangle himself, happy to share one last kiss, and then another, and another.

Draco didn't look up at Harry again until he reached the bench. "Bit unusual of a meeting spot, isn't it?"

Shrugging, Draco replied, "It's close to the Ministry, but not somewhere where you've got to be afraid that the walls have ears."

"What did you want to talk about?" Harry tried to keep his voice light, as if the earlier owl from Draco that had tersely asked for a meeting at Harry's "earliest convenience" hadn't had much of an effect on him.

Draco studied Harry for long moments. "I'm pregnant."

Harry blinked. "I'm sorry?" Surely he had misunderstood.

"I'm pregnant," Draco repeated, looking back at Harry with such utter calm that Harry's hand twitched in response.

"What—but—how?"

A hint of a smirk broke through Draco's composure. "I think you know _how_."

It was so like Draco to resort to sarcasm when Harry's heart was tripping over itself because it was beating so fast. "That's not what I meant. There's nothing we did that would have caused—or did we? I can't recall any particular spells, and you're not on any potions, are you?"

"No. You've some stellar Malfoy traits to thank for this little surprise." Draco's tone had taken on a bitter edge.

"Little?" Harry echoed. "More like the size of an erumpent."

"Something like that." Draco looked out over the pond.

"When did you find out?"

"This morning," Draco answered. "I'd been feeling under the weather for a while now. Thought it might be better to get it checked out."

"You seemed fine last weekend," Harry muttered. It hurt a bit to know that Draco hadn't told him if he wasn't feeling well. Maybe that would be asking for too much considering the kind of relationship they had. They'd been seeing each other for five months now, but still kept everything fairly casual. Plans usually didn't involve anything further ahead than the next week or two.

"It sort of comes and goes," Draco explained. "I'm seven weeks along, so the Healer thinks it's a particularly twisted kind of morning sickness."

Harry nodded. He'd never expected to have another conversation about morning sickness or anything related to it. He fumbled for a proper reaction and came up with nothing.

They remained silent as a group of schoolgirls ambled past, chattering excitedly.

Harry cleared his throat. "Maybe we should take this somewhere else. We could go to my flat. Or to yours. Either way."

"Yours." Draco straightened and pushed himself off the bench. He nodded towards a cluster of shrubs. "We can Apparate from there."

Harry followed Draco's lead. "It's still okay for you to Apparate? I've forgotten when the cut-off date is for that."

"The danger of splinching kicks in around the twelfth week or so," Draco replied.

"I'll have to keep that in mind."

Once hidden from view, Harry gathered Draco towards himself, perhaps more gently than he usually would have. Draco's forehead came to rest on his shoulder and Harry could feel a slight tremor in his back.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Fine," came Draco's clipped response.

~***~

Harry made tea, mostly to give his hands something to do. Draco's eyes remained on him the entire time, tracking how Harry set two mugs on the worktop, added tea bags to them, and heated water in the kettle. The usual teasing about doing things the Muggle way didn't happen, which confirmed to Harry that Draco was anything but fine.

"Here." Harry handed one of the mugs to Draco. "Let's sit down on the sofa. It's more comfortable than the chairs in here."

Draco followed Harry into the living room and folded himself into one corner of the sofa while Harry sat down in the middle, propping up his feet on the coffee table.

"Good tea," Draco remarked after the first sip.

Harry acknowledged the compliment with a nod. "It's funny," he began, "that this happened just when I thought that for the first time, I could just...live without planning too far ahead. Just do whatever I feel like." He glanced at Draco. "Mostly with you."

Draco didn't respond, busy blowing at his tea.

"I mean, Lily's finally over the divorce and happy again, Al's doing well at school, and James is enjoying his apprenticeship in America. Even Ginny and I managed to have a civil conversation again." Harry let his head loll against the back of the sofa, balancing his tea against his chest.

"Hmm." Draco traced the pattern on his mug. "It's not like I planned this."

"I know. It's not your fault." Harry's hand came to rest on Draco's knee. "Never mind me. I was only thinking out loud."

Draco took another sip. "You've mentioned before how your life is finally yours. No more expectations, not many obligations. You can do whatever you like."

There was a hollow ring to Draco's words that made Harry sit up. He lifted his feet off the coffee table, using one knee as resting place for his mug. "But life doesn't always listen to that. And maybe that's a good thing." He ran his hand down Draco's thigh, but Draco twisted away.

"Is it?" Draco asked, turning until his pose mirrored Harry's.

Harry nodded. The steam rising up from his tea fogged his glasses. He set the tea aside and wiped the lenses with a corner of his jumper before pushing them back up on his nose.

Draco's hands twisted around his mug. "There's still some time until—they do the first magical signature trace at ten weeks. That's three weeks away, just about. We could—if we decided that we didn't want—"

Many years as an Auror had taught Harry to keep his feelings off his face, but he must have made some small noise because Draco fell silent. "What are you saying?"

Draco's strained voice was barely above a whisper. "Please don't make me spell it out. We need to—we should consider it."

The emphatic _no_ lingered on Harry's lips for a few moments before he could push it down. He wasn't sure why Draco insisted on discussing this; if neither of them couldn't even openly name what they were both thinking about, hadn't they already made their decision?

"What do you think?" Harry asked cautiously.

Draco drank down the last of his tea. He carefully placed the empty cup on the coffee table. "You know that I was taught a lot about Pureblood superiority when I was growing up. But there were a few other things that I heard over and over that were about the Wizarding world in general. About how there are so few of us left." He halted, then whispered, "About how every wizarding child is precious."

Harry set his mug aside before gently curling his fingers around Draco's wrist. "Then why..."

"I thought maybe you—you didn't grow up hearing this, and you already said that this is rotten timing all around, and—"

"Draco." Harry waited until grey eyes had made their way up to meet his own. "I may not have heard these things when I was younger, but I've raised three children, and I know that while they can be a handful sometimes—well, more often than that, actually—there's also nothing else like it." He paused. "So I'd like to see this through with you. If you want."

The air seemed to whoosh out of Draco and he hunched over his knees, hands pressed against his forehead. He nodded.

"You silly..." Harry muttered and grasped Draco by his shoulder to pull him up and against him.

Draco pressed his face against Harry's neck, almost as if he was hiding. Long shuddering breaths broke against Harry's skin. "How can you be sure?" Draco asked, his words muffled. "You've only known for a few hours."

Harry wished Draco knew him well enough to realise he wouldn't be left alone in this situation. But the way they had handled their relationship so far left enough room for doubt, especially considering that one of the things they had both enjoyed—even revelled in, perhaps—was the absence of obligations and expectations. "It doesn't matter. You've only found out this morning, and you've made up your mind, haven't you?"

Draco nodded.

Maybe this would be the time to say something that helped to shift their entanglement towards something less fleeting. But there was already so much to consider, especially for Draco. "Well, I'm sure, too." Harry said quietly. For his own peace of mind, he added, "Didn't you know I'd want—want to make the same decision you did?"

"Had to be sure," Draco mumbled. His hand twisted into a few strands on Harry's nape before letting go, only to hold on again.

Turning his head, Harry kissed the shell of an ear. "I want this." He hoped that Draco understood that 'this' comprised many things—a continuation of their relationship, a wish to care for the baby, a need for the closeness they'd shared the past few months.

Draco's mouth sought Harry's. A demand to have, and to lay claim, drove the kiss, and Harry gave gladly. The tight hold Draco had on Harry's nape eased after a while, and the press of his lips softened, turning into a playful give-and-take until Draco broke away with a yawn.

"I think I should be insulted," Harry quipped.

Draco's hand stroked over Harry's cheek in apology. "Your skills are still impeccable. I've been tired a lot lately, that's all. And considering there's someone leeching off all my energy, I'm not surprised anymore."

"Maybe you should have a bit of a lie-down," Harry suggested.

"Yeah, I suppose I should head home so you can go back to work."

That was the last thing Harry wanted. "You can stay here. I'll send an owl. I don't think case reports could hold my attention now."

"All right." Draco toed off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa. "Oh, this feels good."

Harry _Accio_ed his favourite blanket from the bedroom and draped it over Draco. Out of habit, he made sure his feet and shoulders were covered.

Draco smiled, his eyes already closed. "Tucking me in?"

"Yes," Harry replied softly, not even trying to deny that he wanted to make sure Draco was comfortable.

A mumbled _thanks_ turned into steady, even breaths.

~***~

Harry took the used mugs into the kitchen, where he washed them the Muggle way. He allowed his mind to wander, thinking back on all the occasions that could have been the moment responsible for their current situation. The night before they took the children to King's Cross stood out—the way Draco had completely let himself go, nearly beside himself with want. Of course it could also have been the time they'd shagged in Ron and Hermione's bathroom, both of them trying to be as quiet as possible, and failing miserably, at least judging by his friends' expressions when he and Draco had reappeared in the living room.

Realising he had washed both mugs twice already, Harry dried them with a towel and put them back in the cupboard. He wiped down the worktop and gathered up the crumbs on the kitchen table. Looking around, he thought of which other chores needed to be taken care of. There was a stack of owl post, but Harry didn't feel like sorting through invitations and bills, and he'd already replied to Al this morning.

He walked back into the living room to check on Draco, who was still sleeping soundly. Without really thinking about it, Harry pulled off his jumper and dropped it into one of the comfortable chairs. A soundless spell enlarged the sofa. Carefully, Harry slipped under the blanket, turning onto his side to lie down next to Draco.

Watching Draco sleep was one of Harry's favourite things to do. He used to watch Ginny sleep as well, which had always earned him strange looks when she noticed it. Draco seemed mostly amused when he caught Harry at it, and Harry liked to think that Draco had lain awake studying him a few times as well.

Harry could tell that even though Draco was asleep, the tension hadn't completely disappeared from his body. There was something about the way he had drawn his arms up in front of his chest that bothered Harry. He laid his hand over Draco's crossed arms in the hope that its warmth might bring more ease.

~***~

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness until Draco's voice firmly pulled him back towards being awake.

"Hmm, this is a surprise," Draco muttered. "I remember falling asleep by myself."

Harry rubbed one hand across his eyes. "Felt like a nap, too."

"Or you couldn't stand to be away from me when I was invitingly sprawled out across the sofa."

Tempted to point out that Draco hadn't exactly taken up that much space, but refraining because the teasing felt good after all the tense conversation earlier, Harry laughed. "Got me in one. You're irresistible."

"Of course I am."

Draco's toes rubbed along Harry's shin, followed by his foot nudging an ankle. Finally, Draco's leg casually tangled with Harry's. So much for subtlety, Harry thought. Following the invitation, he wrapped an arm around Draco's back. The arms that had been so tensely folded against Draco's chest earlier now lay between them, one hand flat against Harry's chest. It seemed like an instinctive touch, one that Draco wasn't entirely aware of. It was clear that the hand wasn't pressed against Harry in an effort to keep him away, but more in a way that sought reassurance. Harry answered with a slight press against the spot where his hand rested between Draco's shoulder blades.

"Feeling better now?" Harry asked.

"Slightly. I still feel like I could sleep for a year." Draco tucked himself closer to Harry.

"You can stay here overnight if you want."

"Can't. Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow, remember? I promised Scorpius to take him to Honeydukes so he can refill his stash. Don't your offspring want to see you?"

Harry thought back on the owl he'd received from Al this morning. "Hardly. Lily's still stuck in the typical Third Year excitement over being allowed to leave school grounds, and I think that Al wants to check out brooms with the Quidditch team."

"Al's still playing Keeper, then?" Draco asked. His hand had wandered to Harry's side, drawing idle patterns there.

"Yeah."

And that's when it hit Harry like a ton of bricks—they'd have to tell the children. Maybe not right away, but eventually. They were going to have a half-sibling, after all. Suddenly, Harry found it difficult to breathe.

"What is it?" Draco asked, pulling back to look at him.

"We're going to have to tell them. About—"

"I know," Draco responded quietly.

"Do you think you might tell Scorpius tomorrow?"

Draco shook his head. "Something might still—might still go wrong. First three months and all."

Harry hadn't considered that possibility before, but memories came rushing back of worrying about Ginny every time she'd been in pain during those first few weeks. There had been one close call during her last pregnancy. It was hard to imagine that Lily might not be in his life. "It'll be fine," Harry mumbled around the constriction in his throat.

His worry was mirrored in Draco's eyes. "Yeah. The Healer seemed optimistic. Once they do the magical signature trace, they'll know a lot more."

"In three weeks, isn't it?"

Draco nodded.

"I'll come with you."

"Really?"

Draco sounded surprised, which made Harry wonder what kind of support Draco was expecting of him. "Of course. Shouldn't I?"

Draco's eyes dropped away. "I can't answer that for you, but I'd appreciate it if you came along."

That sounded terribly formal to Harry's ears. "I _want_ to come along. And yes, I should be there with you."

"All right."

Harry was confused. Had that been the wrong thing to say? If Draco didn't want him there, why didn't he say so? Perhaps it wasn't even about that. There were probably a hundred other things on Draco's mind that he wasn't ready to share yet. Prodding wouldn't be useful; Harry had learned that much in the months they'd been together. But it didn't sit well that something which should be reassuring would be upsetting to Draco.

They lapsed into silence. Draco turned onto his back, then onto his side, facing the back of the sofa. Harry kept his distance.

"Hey." Draco's hand reached back and closed around Harry's wrist, tugging.

Harry followed, his chest to Draco's back. "Yes?"

"I know there's a lot to talk about, but not tonight. It's been a long day."

Harry thought he could almost feel the weariness seep from Draco's body into his own. "Please stay here tonight? You can Floo to the Three Broomsticks in the morning."

Draco hesitated, then said, "You're too convincing for your own good."

There was a smile in Draco's voice, Harry noted with relief. He kissed the side of Draco's neck. "I'll even throw in some takeaway."

"Indian?"

"Anything you like."

~***~

The rain had found a way under Harry's collar, little rivulets that left him shivering making their way down the back of his shirt. Taking the Floo would have been a better choice, but after the conversation with Al and Lily, Harry had felt the need to stretch his legs. Al's venomous "I hate you, Dad!" was still ringing in his ears, and even though he knew that confusion and uncertainty were the source of those words, they still hurt. They were lodged in his chest like a shard, twisting and cutting with each step.

The remainder of the walk to Draco's flat passed by in a haze of familiar roads and houses. The stately wizarding building in which Draco lived allowed him to pass through the front door, finally permitting Harry a reprieve from the rain that had completely drenched him. He knew he could have entered Draco's flat as well because the wards were keyed to him, but it seemed more respectful to wait. The spellwork in the door would pick up on his presence soon enough and alert Draco.

Only a minute went by before the door opened. Draco was wearing soft grey pyjama bottoms and a white T-shirt, hair tousled in a way that made Harry wonder if he had been asleep. He longed to be enveloped in the warmth that was radiating off Draco, wanted to bury into him and forget about spiteful words and cold rain.

"You're wet," Draco observed.

"I walked," Harry replied, stepping over the threshold. He was about to turn down the hallway towards the bathroom, intent on finding a towel, when a hand on his chest stopped him.

"Wait."

Draco hurried to the kitchen and came back with his wand. An easy loop and twist sent a breeze of hot air over Harry, drying his clothes and hair.

"Thanks." Harry took off his heavy robes and hung them on one of the pegs next to the door. He toed off his boots, leaving them in a heap next to the door. He felt Draco next to him and steeled himself for a gentle reprimand about his shoes, but it didn't come.

Instead, Draco tugged at a few strands of Harry's hair. "Like a hedgehog's." A sigh of resigned exasperation followed, but didn't mask the affection in his tone.

A sharp tug of longing had Harry wrap his arms around Draco's waist. "Should be used to it by now," he retorted half-heartedly, more interested in resting his head on Draco's shoulders than bantering about his unruly hair.

Draco understood and gathered Harry close. "It didn't go so well, hmm?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered. His hold tightened.

Harry thought that he should ask about Scorpius' reaction to the news, but he couldn't stomach the prospect of hearing about another son shouting at his father. What he wanted most was to crawl into bed with Draco and fall into a dreamless sleep.

"I want to show you something," Draco said softly, moving away from Harry.

Reluctantly letting go, but keeping hold of Draco's hand, Harry allowed himself to be led to the bedroom.

Draco lay down on the big four-poster that dominated the room. When Harry tried to follow, Draco pushed him to kneel down next to the bed. "For a better view," Draco added.

Harry did as he was told, confused about what was about to happen. He hoped Draco wouldn't try to cheer him up by trying something salacious. Harry wasn't in the mood, and almost stopped Draco when he reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pushing it up to his chest.

"What do you see?" Draco asked, barely constrained joy in his voice.

As far as Harry could tell, he saw what he had admired, touched, licked, and kissed many times: Draco's stomach. "Umm."

"Sometimes I wonder about your observational skills, Mr Head Auror," Draco remarked. "Here, give me your hand."

Harry held it out to him, and Draco guided it in a slow sweep over a stretch of skin low on his belly. Draco's skin felt tight, and there was a strange hardness there that Harry had never felt before—

"Oh."

"Yeah." Draco's eyes were shimmering with excitement. He let go of Harry's hand.

Using only the tips of his fingers, Harry traced over the same area again. He could feel the bump clearly, and when he looked more carefully, he could see it push against the elastic of the pyjama bottoms. A thrill shot through him, immediate and undeniable.

"When did you realise?" Harry asked.

"This morning, when I was trying to decide which robes to wear. Nothing gets past the mirror in the walk-in wardrobe."

Harry remembered spelling the damn thing silent after it had droned on about his poor fashion choices one time too many. Maybe it was good for something, after all.

"Move over?" Harry asked, standing up.

Draco made room for Harry on the bed and watched him take off his jeans and jumper.

Harry lay on his side, his head over Draco's heart. His palm sought the bump again, and he closed his eyes when he felt Draco's hand wind into his hair.

"How did it go with Scorpius?"

Draco's hand stilled for a moment, then resumed sorting through unruly strands. "It went well."

This was unexpected. "It did? What did he say?"

"Not much, at first. But he warmed up to the idea. He seemed—" Draco paused. "He seemed excited."

Harry pushed himself up on his elbow. "Al told me hated me. Lily seemed relieved that she wouldn't be the youngest anymore, but when she hugged me as we were saying good-bye, she held on much longer than usually."

Draco frowned.

"Made me feel like shit." Harry studied the hem of Draco's T-shirt. "Still does."

"You're a good father, Harry," Draco said with a quiet confidence.

"Am I?"

Grey eyes told him clearly to stop asking silly questions. "Of course you are."

Harry still didn't feel entirely certain of that.

"Did Albus elaborate on his disdain?" Draco inquired cautiously.

Harry took off his glasses and reached across Draco to set them on the bedside table. He lay back down and was about to press the heel of his hand against his eyes when Draco lifted the hand away, replacing it with his fingers, which gently rubbed over the bridge of his nose.

Closing his eyes once more, Harry explained, "Well, he asked me how I could do that to him and James and Lily. If they weren't enough for me and that's why I felt the need to find a new family. I tried to explain to him that we didn't exactly plan this and that life often takes unexpected turns and you learn how to make the best of it, but he wasn't interested." Harry sighed.

Draco's thumb rubbed over Harry's temple. The tension eased. "That feels bloody good," Harry murmured.

"You know my fingers are very talented."

Harry let out a brief laugh. "That they are." He wished he could tell Draco how wonderful it was to be able to show up feeling miserable and be offered comfort and reassurance without a second thought. But that would be rather soppy, and Harry felt they weren't quite at a point yet where such declarations were appropriate.

"I probably don't need to tell you that Al's scared, do I?" Draco asked carefully.

"I know he is, and I didn't expect him to be thrilled about the news, but—" Harry found he couldn't continue. The pain in his chest flared and he saw Al's angry, flushed face in front of him again, uncertainty so painfully visible in his eyes. Harry had wanted to hug his son and assure him that this wouldn't change how much he loved him, but instead he had been rebuked. Al had run almost all the way back up to Hogwarts when they parted at the gates.

Draco pulled Harry against his chest, one soothing hand stroking down his back. "He'll come around. He's probably going to talk to Scorpius, and hopefully he'll listen to him."

Harry remained silent, trying to convince himself that Draco was right.

"I think..." Draco began. "I think that Scorpius took the news better because he doesn't have anything to lose. His family broke apart a long time ago, and there were no doting grandparents or myriads of aunts and uncles to act as a windfall. To him, this is more of a chance to be part of a family again."

"Is that what we'll be? A family?" The question was out of Harry's mouth before he could suppress it.

Draco shifted under him, searching his eyes. "I rather hope so."

Harry nodded slowly as the idea sank in. For so long, family had meant the Weasleys to him, and Ron and Hermione. It had been difficult to figure out what that meant after the divorce from Ginny, but he now felt that he might be able to build something with Draco that would take its place. Not a family that was quite as large or loud as what he was used to, but perhaps one that was more _his_. He found that he quite liked the idea.

"Draco, can I stay here tonight? I know it's a weekday, and we usually don't—"

Harry was cut off by a kiss that left no doubts about Draco's answer.

~***~

"A girl, Harry," Draco said as they left the Healer's office and headed towards St. Mungo's public Floo.

"Yeah. Crazy, huh?" Harry still felt a bit stunned by the news.

Draco nodded. His fringe was falling into his face, but it couldn't hide that he was biting his lips to keep from smiling.

"It's all right to be happy, you know," Harry teased.

"Malfoys don't grin like fools in public," Draco replied, still trying to compose himself.

Harry laughed. "I don't think it's working." He reached for Draco's hand. They usually weren't very affectionate in public, but this was a special occasion. Apparently, Draco shared that thought as their fingers laced together with ease.

Just as they were about to turn the corner towards the Floo, Draco pulled Harry into the opposite direction, down an empty corridor. Halfway down, he leaned against the wall, tugging at Harry's hand to come closer, a request with which he readily complied.

"It's a girl," Draco said once more in an excited, awed whisper. There was a flush on his cheeks, and when he looked up at Harry, he finally allowed that smile to fully emerge.

Harry loved to see Draco smile like this—unguarded and evidently content with himself and the world. "I know."

Harry could feel a hint of curve where his hand rested on Draco's side. The healer had projected an image of their baby for them, and they had been able to see arms and hands, even toes. Their little girl. She had moved around, too; merely squirming a little at first, and then turning. So far, Harry had not been able to feel her movements, but he could tell whenever Draco felt her. He'd get a distant look in his eyes and his hand would move over his belly. The first time she moved, Draco had dropped a glass, he'd told Harry. The novelty would soon wear off, Harry suspected, and then the complaints would start once the baby got bigger and targeted Draco's ribs. He still remembered Ginny's cursing rather vividly during all three of her pregnancies. But Harry didn't want to linger on those later months when things would become more difficult. For now, he only wanted to share that sense of wonder about their daughter making her presence known with Draco.

He leaned forward until soft lips touched his. Draco's arms went around Harry's neck, demanding he move closer. Harry had only aimed for a brief kiss, an acknowledgment of the joy they both felt, but Draco clearly had other ideas. Soon, his wicked tongue had robbed Harry of most coherent thoughts, and somehow, Harry's hand had wandered under Draco's jumper, his fingers now exploring the dip on the lower part of Draco's back.

Hands were firmly lodged in Harry's hair, and a low whine wound its way out Draco's throat when an amused "Gentlemen!" made them move apart.

A woman in trainee Healer robes stood at the far end of the corridor. "Seems like you're headed towards something that's not exactly appropriate for a hospital," she pointed out with a wink.

"Er. Right." Harry felt his face heat up. Draco rearranged his robes into their proper order, appearing calm and collected.

The trainee took her leave with a nod.

"That was embarrassing," Harry observed.

"That was nothing," Draco retorted, kissing him again. An almost feral gleam appeared in his eyes when he said, "I hope you weren't intent on going home tonight because I have plans for you."

Harry grinned. "Do you now?"

"Oh yes."

~***~

Harry shook a few snowflakes off his jacket when he entered Draco's flat. The bag from the bakery was still dry, thanks to a water-repelling charm woven into the paper. After quickly toeing off his trainers, Harry made his way into the kitchen, where he placed the fresh croissants on a plate and under a warming spell.

Draco had longingly spoken of pastries from a particular bakery in Diagon Alley right after waking up that morning. Harry had snuck out of the house as soon as Draco had become absorbed in Potions revisions with Scorpius. OWLs loomed in a few months, and apparently, Scorpius was intent on starting his studying early, even though he was home for Christmas.

Harry arranged three cups on the worktop, then switched on the kettle. He was about to turn into the adjacent living room when Draco's softly spoken words stopped him.

"It's quite all right. Go ahead, Scorpius."

Harry peeked around corner, certain that the large bookcase would obscure him from view. Scorpius' hand hovered over Draco's belly for a moment before flattening against it.

"Oh!" Scorpius quickly withdrew his hand. "I didn't think I'd really be able to feel anything."

Draco took hold of his son's wrist and pressed his palm back against the pronounced curve. "Here, wait until she goes for a punch with her hand."

Scorpius bit his lips and waited. He must have felt something because his eyes widened. "Doesn't that hurt?"

Draco laughed. "Sometimes it can get uncomfortable. Especially when she stomps around on my bladder."

"Did I kick you this much as well?"

"All the time," Draco confirmed.

Harry frowned; it almost sounded as if—but that wasn't possible, was it?

"Oh, I think she stopped," Scorpius remarked, sounding disappointed.

"Not for long. And once she gets even bigger, you'll be able to see when she kicks or punches."

Scorpius made a face. "I don't think I need to see that. But what I do need to see is the connection between Jobberknoll feathers and powdered moonstone."

Draco nodded. "That's indeed a very important reaction, especially if you consider that..."

Harry turned back into the kitchen, feeling dazed.

~***~

The haze didn't lift from Harry's brain for the rest of the day. Draco shot him curious glances, especially when Harry accidentally spilled hot tea all over his lap. Once Scorpius left for an impromptu Quidditch match with a few friends from school, Draco turned to Harry.

"Out with it," he instructed, gently taking that day's owl post from Harry's hand and placing it on the coffee table.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked cautiously. He'd intended to talk to Draco about what he'd overheard earlier, too, but this seemed too sudden.

"Whatever it is that's on your mind." Draco's sharp gaze only wavered for a moment when he reached for a pillow to arrange behind his back.

Better to get straight to the point, Harry thought. "I happened to hear some of your conversation with Scorpius earlier."

"Our Potions revisions? I'm sure they were fascinating," Draco teased.

"Not....exactly. When you let Scorpius feel the baby move around, he said—he asked if he'd done the same thing. To you."

Draco stiffened. "And?"

Harry moved closer to Draco on the sofa. The grey eyes that had almost pinned him down only a moment ago were now looking past him. "It sounded as if Scorpius meant that you had him. Not Astoria, but you."

Long moments went by before Draco whispered, "He did."

"But..." Harry's voice wavered. "You mean this isn't your first baby? You carried Scorpius?"

Draco nodded, his eyes cast downward.

"Draco..." Harry's voice trailed off. Hearing his suspicions confirmed stole coherent speech from him.

"I should have told you," Draco said in quick words. "I almost did a few times, but it never seemed like the right time. I'm sorry."

Harry studied the tense set of Draco's shoulders and the way his hands worried the edge of his jumper. He almost looked like a stranger to Harry in that moment. The realisation settled like lead in his chest. "I don't understand."

Draco slowly turned to look at him. "I thought if I told you, things might change."

"What things?" Harry felt increasingly confused.

Draco looked at him as if he was willing Harry to understand without the need for more explanations.

"What things?" Harry repeated.

"About us," Draco finally said.

A restlessness sprang up in Harry that was difficult to contain. "But what would change?"

"I don't know," Draco said, his hand curled into the edge of his jumper.

Draco clearly did know, and whatever it was made him afraid of something that Harry couldn't grasp. He stood up, unable to sit still any longer. "I need some time to think."

Draco shot to his feet, reaching for Harry but then withdrawing his hand at the last moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Harry took the hand Draco had withdrawn and gave it a squeeze. "I know. I'm not angry. I just need to be alone right now. And perhaps you need to sort out your thoughts, too." He moved over to the fireplace and scooped some Floo powder into his hands. "I might be back late."

Relief washed over Draco's features. "You'll be back tonight," he muttered.

"Yes," Harry affirmed, distracted by the decision between Flooing home or to the Leaky for a pint or four.

"Okay," Draco replied.

"No need to wait up," Harry mumbled as he turned towards the hearth, calling out the address of his flat and letting the flames carry him away.

Harry gathered his broom, gloves, and a hat. Once he'd reached his flat, his desire to have space around him outweighed the numbness alcohol would deliver. Finally dressed, and with his broom in hand, Harry Apparated to a sparsely inhabited stretch of fields and woods near the Chiltern Hills. Even though the sky was mostly clear, with the sun framed between clouds, it was very cold. The wind bit at Harry's cheeks as he flew in fast, precise sweeps over the tree tops. The speed helped to slowly lighten the heavy feeling that had settled in him, as if the wind chipped it away bit by bit.

Eventually, he slowed down and watched the sun dip behind the horizon. He wondered if Draco was having dinner with Scorpius right this moment, or if Al had dragged his friend back to the Burrow, leaving Draco to eat alone. Harry hoped that wasn't the case; Draco's thoughts had the tendency to get snagged in rather vicious circles if something was bothering him. Maybe it had been too selfish to more or less run out on Draco, but he had been certain that words would have failed him.

Harry still couldn't entirely understand why Draco hadn't told him about Scorpius earlier. Was he wrong to assume that this concerned him? Maybe so, but if this wasn't Draco's first pregnancy, why had Draco never mentioned the possibility that there might be consequences aside from delirious pleasure when they were together?

Most of all, Harry worried what this might mean for their commitment to one another. Even before their daughter had made her presence known, he had thought their relationship might grow into something strong, and possibly permanent. That feeling had only become more intense these past few months, and Harry knew he was in this with all his heart. And he had thought Draco was as well, even though they had never really spoken about it in such clear terms. Maybe it was time to do that; maybe he needed to take the first step, and then Draco could follow. If he wanted to.

Harry fervently hoped that Draco would.

~***~

When Harry returned to Draco's flat, the hall was dark. Muted light spilled out from the living room, probably coming from the fireplace, which meant that Draco had not gone to bed yet. It was later than Harry had intended—past eleven already. But he'd been starving once he had come back from flying, and had gone for takeaway and then a shower. Possibly there had also been some avoidance involved because he felt rather uncertain about what might await him at Draco's. The last thing he wanted was to have an argument.

But he needn't have worried. Draco was fast asleep on the sofa, that day's issue of the _Prophet_ draped over his belly. Harry gathered it up, folded it, and dropped it to the floor. He pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa and covered Draco with it. Unable to resist, he brushed a few wayward strands of hair away from Draco's face, smiling at the small noise he received.

Harry went into the kitchen pondering a cup of tea, but finding himself distracted by a stack of dirty dishes in the sink. He turned on the water and went to work.

~***~

After placing the last cup on the drying rack, Harry reached behind him to snatch the dish towel off a chair to dry his hands. Only then did he notice that Draco stood on the threshold, blanket around his shoulders and trailing on the floor.

Harry wondered how long Draco had been standing there. "You woke up."

Draco nodded. "When did you come back?"

"A little while ago." Harry folded the towel and returned it to its proper place. "I went flying."

Draco nodded again. "Scorpius Flooed and announced he might as well stay over at Al's grandparents because he'd go over there again in the morning and could save himself the extra trip. Never mind that he had to come back here first to get his pyjamas."

Harry laughed because it felt appropriate. "Bet Al's put him up to that."

"Probably."

"So you've been alone tonight?" Harry asked.

Draco drew the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "Just the telly and me."

"Anything worth watching?" Harry asked as he stepped closer to Draco.

"That famous bloke you fancy was on one of the chat shows."

"If you say so." Harry wasn't entirely sure who Draco was referring to, but didn't particularly care to find out. He took another step forward. "Draco," he murmured, reaching for him.

"Yeah?" he responded just as softly.

It was the longing in Draco's eyes that made Harry envelop him in a fierce embrace. It was returned with equal force, only slightly dampened by the belly between them.

"There's something I've to ask you," Harry whispered.

"What?"

Harry pressed his hand between Draco's shoulder blades to make sure he wouldn't try to pull away. This was difficult enough to ask as it was without having those searching grey eyes on him. "When I tell you that—that I love you, you know what that means, don't you?"

Draco pulled away as much as he could. His lips brushed along Harry's jaw as he spoke. "I think so. But tell me regardless."

Draco's fine hair felt soft against Harry's cheek. It was even softer against his fingers. "It means that I adore you. Rather a lot. And that you're stuck with me now, for a rather long time, I think." Those words had sounded much better in Harry's head, but at least he'd managed to get them out without too much fumbling.

Draco's hand fisted in Harry's sweatshirt. "I don't mind being stuck with you for a very, very long time."

Harry smiled. "Good," he mumbled before finding Draco's lips with his mouth.

~***~

There wasn't any more talking after that, but Harry thought they communicated quite clearly nevertheless.

~***~

"I was scared shitless, is what I was," Draco said pointedly, balancing a cup of tea on his belly. "I'd just admitted to myself only six months earlier that I liked men, and there I was—twenty-seven and pregnant. Not what I'd imagined."

Harry chuckled. He couldn't help it. It earned him a sharp slap to his thigh, but it was a small price to pay for the conversation they were having. Early morning light streamed into the bedroom, they both had a cup of tea, and Draco was sitting between Harry's legs. It was comfortable; Harry thought Draco almost welcomed his questions.

"What did Astoria say?"

"I think she was glad. It meant that she was free of the expectation to bear an heir for the Malfoy line, and she happily played pregnant in public in exchange."

Harry ran his free hand down Draco's side. "It's hard to believe you managed to keep it a secret."

Draco shrugged. "We were known for being rather private. That helped."

Harry thought rather wistfully that he wished it had been the same for him and Ginny when she was pregnant with James. The reporters had taken up permanent residence just outside their wards, or so it had seemed. "What about Scorpius? When did you tell him the truth?"

There was pride in Draco's voice when he answered. "Scorpius has always known. We never kept it from him. And he knows it's a secret that cannot be told to anyone outside his family."

This surprised Harry. Considering how concerned Draco had been with proper traditions—and still was, to an extent—he'd assumed that Scorpius had not been aware of his rather untraditional family for a long time. "That's remarkable."

"I think for Scorpius, it's simply the way it's always been. He knows it's strange to other people, but not to him," Draco explained.

"Hmm. Makes sense." Harry thought it was similar to how his children only knew him as Dad, not as Harry Potter.

Draco held out his cup, and Harry dutifully took it from him to set it down on the bedside table. He drained the last of his tea as well. His cup joined Draco's, their handles clinking against one another. There was something oddly satisfying about those two cups sitting next to each other.

"Already out of questions?" Draco asked. He turned sideways, his cheek against Harry's chest.

"No." _But some are easier to ask than others_. "One thing I've been thinking about is—well, I've wondered why you never asked me to cast a contraceptive charm if you knew that you could get pregnant."

Draco's shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths. "When Scorpius was born, the Healers said it would be impossible for me to conceive again. It was a very difficult birth, and—" Draco fell silent. One of his hands briefly curled around Harry's thigh. "I suppose I should have known that 'impossible' and 'Harry Potter' cancel one another out."

"Story of my life," Harry muttered. "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?"

_Our daughter. Me_, Harry wanted to say. "Never asking about contraceptive charms," he said instead.

"No." Draco rubbed the side of his belly. Quietly, he added, "Not anymore."

Harry had suspected as much. He remembered how distraught Draco was on the day he shared the news about his pregnancy.

"I didn't expect it to be like this. That you'd be here all the time." Draco's words were hesitant. "When I was pregnant with Scorpius...well. Astoria was supportive, of course. And we liked each other well enough. But we had our own lives, and that didn't really change until after Scorpius was born."

"She became more involved then?"

"Yes. Scorpius has always managed to charm his way into everyone's hearts, even when he was little."

Harry thought about his children, all three of them demanding, loud, and determined from the day they were born. "Let's hope this one takes after Scorpius," he wished out loud.

Draco glanced up at Harry. "Is there something I should know about your children?"

"Aside from the fact that they've always had their own ideas about when to sleep and what to eat, no." Looking back, Harry had no idea how he and Ginny had made it through the years when all the kids were little.

"And here I thought I'd only have to be concerned about possibly atrocious hair," Draco teased.

"Shush, you love my hair."

Draco muttered something unintelligible into Harry's chest.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, content to enjoy having Draco in his arms. The deep breaths he felt told him Draco was at ease, and the occasional roll under his palm signalled their daughter was content as well. There was one question he'd been putting off because he didn't want to disrupt the comfort of their conversation. Perhaps it wasn't something Harry was entitled to know, and he'd tried to tell himself that it wasn't important, but the question had persistently risen to the forefront of his thoughts.

"Draco, I..." Harry halted.

"Yes?"

Maybe this was a bad idea and he should keep his mouth shut.

"Harry, we said anything is fair game."

They had indeed agreed to that. "Who is Scorpius' father?"

Draco smiled. "I'd been wondering if you'd ask about him."

Harry gathered his thoughts while Draco turned around. "I almost didn't."

Draco settled himself comfortably into Harry's lap, looking straight at him. "I'd be curious, too, if I were you. The short answer is that he's a wizard I was having an affair with at the time. It wasn't serious; just a bit of fun here and there when we happened to feel like being in each other's company. I'd had various encounters with Muggles before—"

"Muggles?"

"You don't need to sound so surprised. The wizarding world is small, especially its elite. Word travels fast, and I wasn't certain I wanted to risk more gossip about the Malfoys because of some vague notion I had about fancying men. Muggles were easier."

"I've been with Muggles, too," Harry admitted.

"And?"

Harry shrugged.

Draco nodded. "Never felt quite right?"

Harry looked at the cups on the bedside table. "No." He'd never admitted that to someone else.

"I always felt like there was something missing," Draco explained. "At that point I was sure enough about my interest in men that I sought out other wizards. Maybe if I'd known what the consequences of being with a wizard would be, I'd have stuck to Muggles."

Harry's hands smoothed along Draco's thighs. "But then you wouldn't have Scorpius."

Draco frowned. "Hard to imagine."

"Did you ever tell your lover?"

Draco's eyes hardened. "No. Broke it off as soon as I found out. I said Astoria was pregnant and that it wouldn't look good if I cheated on my pregnant wife. Pureblood society is quite tolerant of indiscretions, but that tolerance only stretches so far. I never heard from him again."

Harry thought he detected hurt behind Draco's voice. Perhaps the affair hadn't been as casual as Draco made it out to be. It explained so much: Draco's fears about Harry's reaction to the news of the pregnancy, the continuing doubts about their relationship, all never spoken aloud, but clearly present. He tugged Draco closer until the belly bumped against his stomach.

"Did you consider not telling me?" Harry asked. Draco was sitting so close to him that a few fine strands of hair brushed against his cheek.

"No," Draco whispered. "As soon as I heard, I wanted to tell you."

Harry understood then that while there might still be doubts about the future in their minds, their relationship had been on sure footing even on that afternoon in the park. Knowing that solidified a plan he'd been toying with for a few weeks. He smiled; if all went well, his idea could become reality just in time for Christmas.

~***~

"I'm stuffed," Draco declared, pushing away a half-eaten plate of chocolate cake.

Harry laughed. "You had yours and mine. And then you ordered another slice. I'm not surprised."

"I'm eating for two, remember." Draco patted his belly, which was covered by beautiful new blue-grey robes. He'd finally conceded that his old robes were too tight and had consented to having paternity robes tailored for him. After picking up the new robes, they had stopped at Draco's favourite restaurant for dinner, and were enjoying the view of shoppers rushing down the street from their private alcove.

"That doesn't explain why you had _three_ slices," Harry teased. "But I know what might help. We should go for a walk."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "It's cold outside."

"It's a short walk. And perhaps a car ride after we finish the walk."

"I wasn't aware that we had plans to go somewhere after dinner." Draco studied Harry with a curious gaze.

"It's a surprise." Harry took Draco's hand and helped him up. "I know we said we'd exchange gifts with the boys on Boxing Day, but this is something I'd rather show you when it's only the two of us."

"Oh, is it _that_ kind of a surprise?"

Harry swung his cloak around his shoulders and then helped Draco into his. "Er, no. Nothing like that."

"Oh." Draco sounded disappointed. "Will it be a long drive?"

As Apparition was out of the question for Draco at this point in the pregnancy, and Portkeys didn't agree with him, Harry had managed to convince him to give the "Muggle death traps" a chance. But Draco still didn't like to be confined in a car for too long.

"Maybe an hour," Harry answered. With a wink, he added, "I'll make it worth your while."

~***~

"This is it," Harry said as he opened a low iron gate.

Draco stepped through it and walked along the short path to a two-story brick house. "And what is this, exactly?"

"Umm, it's a house."

Draco glanced at him, looking amused. "Really. I thought it was a boat. I meant, what are we doing here?"

Harry swallowed. Somehow, his heart had relocated to his throat and he found it quite difficult to speak around it. "It could be our house. If you want."

Draco's eyes flitted back and forth between the house and Harry. "You bought us a house?"

"Er, no. Not yet. I thought we could maybe, well, if you like it, that is, we could buy it. Together. For us." He sounded like an idiot.

Draco remained silent for a long minute, studying the many windows and sloping curve of the roof. "Let's take a look inside."

Not feeling very reassured that he hadn't made an arse of himself by bringing Draco out here, Harry stepped up to the front door and tapped his wand against it. "After you," he mumbled when the door swung open.

Harry had loved the house the moment he'd set foot in it. There were no walls on the ground floor—the living space merged with the kitchen, and a wall of windows allowed a view of the garden beyond.

"Looks Muggle," Draco remarked.

"It does," Harry confirmed. "But it's not." He felt for the piece of paper he'd tucked into his pocket and read over the spell he'd scribbled down. He managed the correct wand pattern and incantation on the first try, and the shadowy darkness was replaced by bright morning light.

"Built-in weather charms." Draco sounded impressed.

"Yeah. You get a much better sense of it in the daylight."

Draco nodded and began walking around. The wooden floor creaked under his steps as he passed by the bookshelves that made up an entire wall. He stopped next to the glass door leading into the garden.

Harry stepped up next to him. "Those are apple trees. And one pear."

"Hmmm." Draco turned towards the kitchen. "Does this come with all the standard maintenance charms?"

"It does. It even allows for Muggle appliances." Harry twisted the piece of paper that was still in his hand.

"So you could still have your beloved electric kettle," Draco observed.

"I could, yeah. Do you—umm, do you want to see the upstairs?"

"Sure." Draco spotted the stairs that were hidden behind a row of kitchen cabinets. He walked up slowly, one hand on his belly.

Once they reached the landing, Harry gestured down the hall. "It looks like there are only six rooms here now, but they easily transform into seven. That way all the children could have their own room. Al's, Lily's, and Scorpius' would be permanently visible, and the guest room appears when it's needed."

"You've certainly thought this through," Draco commented, peeking into empty rooms.

Harry took Draco's hand. "Our room is the last one down the hall."

It was a generously sized bedroom that would be able to accommodate the large four-poster Draco owned as well as the leather chair Harry was unwilling to part with.

"Oh, a walk-in wardrobe?" Draco asked, striding across the room to open the door in the far wall.

Harry hurried after him. "No, that's—"

"A nursery," Draco finished for him.

"Yeah." Harry stepped into the room behind Draco.

The design of the room in which their daughter would live had convinced Harry that this was the right house for them. All four walls were painted with a landscape featuring trees and grass. Leaves and flowers swayed gently in an imaginary wind. A deer looked at them from behind a tall shrub, and two sparrows nestled together in the oak that took up almost an entire wall.

"The scenery changes from day to night," Harry said softly. "And with the seasons." He flicked his wand, and the leaves turned into snow. A squirrel bounded across the frozen meadow, pausing briefly to look at them before continuing on its way.

Draco turned to Harry, blinking rapidly. He opened his mouth to speak only to shake his head and bring a hand up to his eyes, covering them.

Harry gathered Draco into his arms. "Shh." He wasn't quite sure what to make of Draco's reaction. He was clearly overwhelmed, and Harry hoped it was for happy, not sad, reasons. "Do you like it?" he asked hesitantly.

A choked "yes" took away some of Harry's worries. He continued to rub Draco's back until the shaking subsided.

When Draco straightened, rubbing at his eyes, Harry transfigured the piece of paper he was still clutching into a handkerchief.

Draco took it with a mumbled "thanks" and blew his nose. "Bloody hormones."

Harry smiled. "So you really like it?"

"It's—" Draco stopped and took a deep breath. "You're impossible, I hope you know that. Going out and looking at houses, and finding the perfect one, and taking me here when I'm completely ignorant of what's awaiting me and then finding myself in the most beautiful room I could imagine for our little girl, and—" His lips pressed together for a moment. "I could have gone into labour, you know. All that unexpected..." Draco waved his hands. "Emotional upheaval."

Harry's smile widened. "Is that a yes on the house, then?"

Draco took Harry's face into his hands and kissed him. "Yes, that's a yes on the house."

A weight fell off Harry's shoulders. "I thought you'd like it, but I wasn't sure. We've never even talked about living together, so I didn't want to presume—"

"Harry," Draco interrupted. "You're practically living at my flat right now."

"Um. I suppose that's right." He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in his flat for longer than it took to grab a few more of his clothes to take over to Draco's.

"So I think that question has been settled, hasn't it?"

Harry nodded.

"How soon can we move in?" Draco asked.

"January first, if we want. We can meet with the estate agent after Christmas and deal with the paperwork."

Draco nodded and studied the room again. He looked happy.

Harry took his hand. "There's one more thing..."

Casting a glance at their entwined fingers, Draco asked cautiously, "You're not going to propose, are you?"

"What? No, that's not—propose?" Harry felt dumbfounded. That had not crossed his mind.

"I was worried you might. Not because I don't want—well, actually, I don't want to marry you." Draco's eyes softened. "I still want to be stuck with you for a long, long time, but marriage—I've done that. And not too successfully. I'd rather have something different with you." He reached for Harry's other hand.

Harry felt Draco's thumb run over the back of his hand. It was steadying, unlike his thoughts, which were a jumble. He hadn't considered marrying Draco. It simply had not occurred to him. What Draco had said rang true with him, however. When he thought of marriage, he thought of Ginny. Of the kind of relationship they'd had, and how it had ended. "I'd rather have something different with you as well," he finally said.

"I might not be averse to a traditional bonding in a few years. When our girl is old enough to remember it."

The openness with which Draco looked at him startled Harry. He was used to Draco putting up a guard even when they talked frankly. But there was no guard now, and he could clearly see hope and affection in Draco's gaze.

"I think I'd like that. I'd like that very much," Harry answered softly.

Draco's eyes lit up with joy, and he pulled Harry close for a fierce kiss. "Happy Christmas."

"Very happy," Harry replied quietly.

~***~

"Oh my—" Harry muttered, then was rendered silent by the state of their living room.

Fifteen minutes ago, before Harry had left for a post-breakfast shower, the room had been neat. Well, mostly. Their tea cups had been sitting on the coffee table, the Sunday edition of the _Prophet_ had been spread out over the sofa and the new comfortable chair, and Draco's robe had been flung into a corner after Harry had decided he much preferred Draco out of it. The consequent mess had made the shower necessary, and Harry had been expecting Draco to join him, but he could see that other things were apparently more pressing.

Every available surface was covered with piles of books. The bookshelves were bare. Two feather dusters merrily swept across the exposed wood, and about five different books hovered in mid-air, kept aloft by Draco's wand.

"Umm. What is this?" Harry asked, gesturing to the books.

Draco briefly glanced at him before returning his attention to the floating books. "It's time I finally arranged these books properly. When we moved in here, we simply charmed them on the shelves without any system whatsoever. Do you think putting them in alphabetical order is enough, or should they be subdivided by topic first, and then arranged alphabetically? That might make it easier to find a particular book quickly, especially if I can't recall the author's name...."

Harry grinned.

"What?" Draco asked, frowning. "Do you have a better suggestion? I realise your book collection isn't quite as...vast, but surely you have them in some sort of order?"

"If leaving them about randomly counts as order, then yes." Harry walked over to Draco to stand behind him.

"It doesn't." Draco tried to step away, but Harry's hands on his hips stopped him. "Don't try to distract me! This is important."

Harry wrapped an arm around Draco's chest to stop the squirming. "Do you know what I think?" He kissed the side of Draco's neck.

"Mmm—stop that. Ob—obviously I don't know."

A most delectable flush was creeping up Draco's neck. It beckoned to be chased by Harry's tongue. And his lips. Harry almost lost himself in the little sounds Draco was unsuccessfully trying to suppress, but he had a point to make. "I think you're nesting."

"WHAT!" The hovering books crashed to the floor, and Draco disentangled himself from Harry's arms. "Pardon me, but I am most certainly _not_ nesting."

"Really."

Draco crossed his arms across his torso, but his belly was in the way. It rather ruined the angry look he was no doubt striving for. "That's absurd."

Harry laughed, and received a scowl in return. "You rearranged nearly the entire living room while I was in the shower. It's a classic symptom."

"Organising one's book collection is a most intellectual pursuit, I'll have you know. It doesn't have anything to do with the baby. She won't even be able to read for a few years." Draco's chin jutted out the tiniest bit.

"Uhuh." Harry was thoroughly charmed by Draco's denial. He reached for Draco again, tugging on the belt of his robe. Any noises of protest were muffled by Harry's mouth, then turned into eager sounds as Draco kissed him back.

Merlin, sometimes Harry wondered if pregnancy hormones were contagious. Recently he found it difficult to keep his hands off of Draco. He knew this late stage of the pregnancy was often difficult on the man he loved if the constant complaining about aches and pains was anything to go by, but Harry looked at the respectable belly and could only think about how their girl was growing bigger and bigger, now nearly ready to be born. Fortunately, Draco was almost always amendable for a shag, or at least a snog.

Which was exactly what they had worked themselves up to when a tap-tap to the window interrupted them.

"Bloody owls." Harry moved away from Draco. "Always arriving at the wrong time."

"Ignore it."

The pecking grew louder.

Harry sighed. "Can't, apparently."

He opened the window, fed the owl a treat, and untied the package from its leg. Oh. That.

"What is it?" Draco asked, peering over Harry's shoulder.

"Uhh—"

"Harry." Draco's voice softened. "Tell me you didn't." He took the package out of Harry's hands.

"Did, 'm afraid."

Draco looked at him. "It's bad luck."

"It's just one little thing. It can't be that bad." He directed Draco towards the sofa.

They sat down, the package on Draco's lap. He was running his fingers over the bright green ribbons that tied it together. "Are they the ones we saw?"

"You'll have to open it to find out," Harry replied.

Draco hesitated for another moment, then tugged apart the knot, pushed away the paper, and opened the box. Two tiny booties, dark green with white rabbits, sat on yellow paper. "Thank you," Draco whispered.

Harry kissed his cheek. "You're welcome."

"They're as beautiful up close as they looked in the window."

"Yeah." Harry took them into his hands, marvelling once again at how soft they felt. He set them on top of Draco's belly. He leaned closer and said, "Your first pair of shoes, wriggly-wiggly."

"I really wish you'd stop calling her that."

Harry propped his chin on Draco's belly. "But that's what she is."

"Ow." Draco tugged on Harry's hair until he'd turned his head, cheek pressed against the curve. "Much better, you sap."

"You love it." He reached up and skimmed his fingertips over Draco's face.

Draco turned towards the caress, hiding a smile in Harry's palm.

~***~

Harry woke up mid-wail. Considering their daughter's volume, he wondered if the baby monitor was really necessary. One glance at Draco told him he was still in deep sleep, limbs sprawled over the bed at odd, but apparently comfortable, angles. With a sigh, Harry stumbled out of bed and towards the nursery.

He was surprised to find Al there, awkwardly holding Annabelle.

"Dad, she doesn't want to stop!" Al looked terrified. "I wasn't sure if you'd hear, so I got up and checked on her, but she's only getting louder and—"

Harry blinked, hoping his brain would wake up and process what Al had said. Not to mention the fact that Al was holding his sister, something which he had refused to do in the five days since he'd returned home for Easter hols. "Try holding her against your chest. Rubbing her back might also help."

Al rearranged the baby in his arms, being careful to support her head and generally touching her with cautious hesitation. "Like this?"

Harry nodded. The wailing turned into regular crying. "She's probably hungry." He closed his eyes and pictured the fridge door opening and a bottle floating out if it. He saw it zooming up at the stairs in his mind's eye and felt it smack into his palm shortly thereafter.

"Show-off," Al teased.

There was no malice in his voice, which once again made Harry wonder what exactly was going on here. While Al had started to come around to the idea of having a sister in recent weeks, the relationship with Harry had still remained strained.

"What's all that power good for if you can't use it for the really important things?" Harry retorted. The comment even earned him a hint of a smile from Al. "Do you want to feed her?"

Al looked uncertain. "Can I?"

"Sure." Harry gestured to the chair near the window. "Sit down."

Settling himself, Al shifted Annabelle to rest in the crook of his arm. "Okay."

Harry pictured warmth streaming out of his palms into the bottle. As he was far too lazy to look for his wand every time his daughter was hungry, he'd developed a sense of when the formula was warm enough to suit Annabelle's liking. "Here." He held the bottle out to Al.

"Oh, she's really hungry," Al remarked as his sister eagerly sucked down big gulps of formula.

Harry laughed. "She's always that hungry."

They watched the baby in silence until Al quietly said, "Scorp told me last night. About Draco being—well, his mum, sort of."

"Did he?" Harry asked, taking care to keep the question neutral.

"Yeah. He also said that he's happy that he's got a sister who'll understand what that means." Al paused. "I hadn't thought about it like that."

Harry had no idea what to say in response. His brain was still half-asleep—_Merlin, what time was it? Had Al still been up at this hour? It had to be at least 3 o'clock_—and thus wasn't ready for any sort of heart-to-heart with his son, no matter how much Harry had wished for exactly that over the past months.

"I'm sorry," Al mumbled.

Harry ruffled his son's hair. "It's all right. I know this has been difficult for you."

Al nodded.

_Did Al need more reassurance?_ Harry wondered. He hated feeling so out of his depth regarding his youngest son, whom he usually related to so easily.

"I think she's done," Al announced.

Annabelle was turning her face away from the bottle, which was a definite sign that she'd had enough. For the moment, at least. Harry took a piece of cloth from a drawer and slung it over his shoulder. "I'll take her now," he said and lifted his daughter out of Al's arms. Bouncing her a little, Harry started walking around the room.

"What are you doing?" Al asked, standing up.

His sister provided the answer before Harry could reply. Al wrinkled his nose. "Oh, ewww."

"You should see her nappies," Harry said.

Al shuddered. "I'd rather not."

Harry swayed gently back and forth in the hope that it would make Annabelle fall asleep again. "You can go back to bed. She'll be fine."

Al nodded, but didn't leave. Harry suspected that there was something else on his mind. He returned the baby to the crib, which he'd pay for later because Annabelle hated being put into it before she was fast asleep. But Al needed him more urgently.

"Everything okay?" Harry asked.

Al studied his bare toes. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad at you." Harry pulled his son into a hug, the pride of fifteen-year-olds be damned. "I love you, Al, and nothing's ever going to change that."

Al burrowed closer. "Okay."

Harry was glad that his son allowed the embrace to continue for a bit longer before remembering that he was too old for these things.

"Good night, Dad," Al whispered.

"Night." Harry's eyes followed his son until he'd disappeared behind the door of his room. His heart felt lighter. Perhaps Al would find a way to feel comfortable with his newly expanded family after all. Making an effort to calm his sister in the middle of the night certainly was an indication that he was willing to try.

When Harry looked into the crib, Annabelle was making a displeased face. Her lower lip quivered, which never boded well. He lifted her into his arms. "One big tantrum a night is enough, isn't it? Especially for someone so little. I think I know what's going to prevent more crying."

Draco was still asleep when Harry entered the room, but he woke up when the baby was placed next to him.

"She wants you," Harry explained, climbing into bed.

"Never wanted to be popular with witches," Draco muttered, but tucked an arm around their daughter.

Harry gently stroked the baby's soft curls. "She's worth making an exception for."

"Just wait until you're up all night with her when she's teething. That'll be—" Draco yawned. "That'll be fun."

"One step at a time."

Harry took one last look at Annabelle, who was now sleeping between him and Draco, before closing his eyes as well, feeling at peace with the world.

 

The End.


End file.
